


I Don't Want To Keep Secrets (just to keep you)

by bookwormforalways



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, FWB to Step-Siblings, Fake Names, Minor Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Minor Wells Jaha/Raven Reyes, Modern AU, Secret dating, Some Smut (not explicit), some fluff moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormforalways/pseuds/bookwormforalways
Summary: When Clarke first made an online dating profile she used a fake name, not expecting to start anything serious. But then she met Blake. Hooking up with him was supposed to be a one time thing - but it kept happening.Eight months later, Blake still doesn’t know her real name, or the fact that Clarke has fallen head over heels in love with a man she knows nothing about. That is, until Clarke goes home for her mother’s wedding, and sees an all too familiar face standing as the best man.Turns out, Clarke isn’t the only one keeping secrets.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 40
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this was my nanowrimo project from months ago... 🙈 finally got it cleaned up and ready to post! 
> 
> title from Taylor Swift's 'Cruel Summer'

**\--- june ---**

Letting the door fall closed behind her with a heavy slam, Clarke dropped her bags on the floor, exhausted from a long day at work. Rolling her shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension, she sighed, ready to pop open a bottle of wine. Grabbing a protein bar that would serve as dinner, Clarke quickly changed out of her formal office clothes into a more comfortable hoodie and sweats. 

It was her own fault that she’d had to stay late at the office. Needing the next day off work to travel home to Arkadia, Clarke had been the last one to leave the office, cramming in as many last minute tasks as possible. 

Now, it was well past nine in the evening, and she was exhausted. Turning on a mindless episode of the Office, she poured herself a well-deserved glass of wine, ready to lounge in front of the tv until she was ready to fall asleep.

That was the plan, at least until her phone buzzed on the coffee table. 

_Hey, you up?_

Clarke bit her lip to contain her smile, as her anticipation bubbled. _Yeah_ , she texted back. 

Seconds later, a new message appeared. _Want some company?_

_Hell yes. Come on down._ It was an easy answer. 

He answered, _Be right there. And yes, that’s the plan ;)_

Blushing at the terrible joke on her phone, Clarke stood and shook her hair free from the messy bun she had thrown it in on her commute home. Downing the rest of her wine in a single gulp, she put the empty glass in the sink. 

A minute later, she heard the knock on the door. Eager to see him, Clarke pulled the door open. 

It was never supposed to be anything serious between them, but her heart still flipped when she saw him standing there. 

Blake. 

Clarke didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he lived in the same building as her, wasn’t looking for a serious relationship right now, and had a job almost as stressful as her own. She didn’t even know his last name. And apparently he did have a roommate, which is why he always came to her place as she lived alone. 

“Hey Clare,” he said, looking down at her. “How’s it going?”

And Clarke may have withheld her fair share of the truth as well, starting with a fake name. 

When Raven, her only friend from the office, had convinced her that online dating was the only way to meet new people these days, Clarke had disagreed at first. Once her work schedule began to dominate her life, Clarke soon learned that she didn’t have time for a relationship anyway, though she wasn’t quite ready to quit all physical contact. 

But when Clarke created her Tinder profile, she used a fake name. She was new to the city anyway, and didn’t know anyone outside of her office and the one elderly woman across the hall. Besides, she’d rather her hookups know her as Clare, rather than Clarke. It wasn’t as if she had anything to hide, but her name wasn’t exactly common. And she didn’t want anyone to connect her to the law firm she was working at, or even her mother’s prestigious standing at the hospital hours away. 

“Better now,” Clarke answered, “You?” Not so subtly, she grabbed his hand, and began walking toward her bedroom.

“Much better now,” he echoed, close behind her. 

And when Clarke glanced over her shoulder to give Blake a small smile, his eyes were dark with lust as he followed her down the hall. 

They didn’t say anything else. They didn’t need to, instead, using their bodies to communicate. It was their unspoken agreement, their set of unwritten rules. Clare and Blake didn’t share any personal information aside from their likes and dislikes in the bedroom, and they would shamelessly use each other for stress relief. That’s all this was, a physical relationship, with no conversations or feelings to ruin the arrangement. 

Sometimes they would doze off after sex, cuddled close skin to skin, worn and exhausted. But Blake never slept over. It was another unwritten rule.

Though, every once in a while, Blake would hesitate to leave, burying his head in her pillow for a few more minutes. Or to sneak a few extra kisses to her neck. 

And lately, Clarke found herself wanting to ask him to stay.

But that was against the rules, as unofficial as they may be. It was a line that couldn’t be crossed, no matter how much she was tempted to. They had agreed to no feelings, just sex. So Clarke couldn’t tell him. Because if Clarke did tell him how she felt, Blake wouldn’t stay, and she would never see him again. And the possibility of losing Blake forever hurt worse than knowing this wasn’t a real relationship. 

Selfishly, Clarke took pleasure in those fleeting moments after, as their breathing slowed, and she could feel his heartbeat next to hers. For five minutes, she could pretend she and Blake were something more. 

Lying there beside Blake, Clarke wondered if it might be possible to freeze time, and make those five minutes last far longer. Perhaps she could live in this moment, in Blake’s arms forever. 

Eyeing the dress bag hanging on the back of her door, she was reminded of how much she wanted to avoid this coming weekend. The pink bridesmaid dress hiding inside was a stark reminder of how much was about to change. A reminder that her mother had moved on, and that soon Clarke would have a shiny new step-father and two new step-siblings. 

\---

The next morning, Clarke woke up to an empty bed. Clearly her plan to freeze time hadn’t worked, so got up out of bed with a sigh. After a quick shower, Clarke packed a bag for the weekend, threw the garment bag with her bridesmaid dress over her shoulder and left her apartment. Despite not wanting to go home for the weekend, she still arrived at the train station thirty minutes early. 

Her childhood home in Arkadia was a three hour train ride away from Polis, where she lived now. Clarke stared out the windows, watching the rolling green fields and small towns pass by. All the while wishing that the train would suddenly reverse it’s path, and keep her away from Arkadia. But even if she wasn’t there to see it, everything would still change. 

It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t want her mother to marry Marcus Kane. No, Marcus was nice enough, or she assumed he was as Clarke had never actually met him yet, and he seemed to make Abby happy. Clarke’s hesitation was that it still felt too soon, as Abby and Marcus had only started seeing each other six months ago. While Abby explained that the timing felt right, and there was no sense waiting, Clarke couldn’t comprehend it. To Clarke, it felt like her father was being forgotten in Abby’s haste to move on. And the thought of Jake Griffin being replaced crushed her heart. 

Grief was a monster of an emotion. Once she thought she’d dealt with the worst of it, Clarke found it lingering in the shadows, appearing to haunt her and remind her of everything she’d lost. The loss of her father, the loss of her family, the loss of her childhood. 

As the miles rolled by, Clarke toyed with the watch on her wrist, her father’s old watch. And she resolved to try being happy for her mother this weekend, to be the perfect daughter in front of her mother’s friends. And she would do her best to make a good impression for her new step-father, and try to befriend her two new step-siblings, who she had never met before. 

Change was imminent, and Clarke kept trying to remind herself that everything would be okay. Besides, she was grown up and living independently in Polis. She should be able to handle these changes. It wasn’t like she would need to share a house with her new step-family or even see them everyday. No, it would only affect her life on weekends home and holidays. 

The only saving grace of this weekend would be seeing Wells, her best friend. They used to be inseparable, but now lived hours apart. If Clarke could ignore everything else happening this weekend, she could at least enjoy seeing Wells, and hopefully drink way too much champagne. 

After the train arrived at the station, Clarke stepped onto the platform and immediately saw her mother waiting, and waving excitedly. 

It wasn’t a sight Clarke expected, as Abby had always been distant throughout Clarke’s childhood. Clarke had always been closer with her father, who had been at home with her, while her mother spent countless late nights and weekends at work, prioritizing her career over her daughter. Navigating their strained mother daughter relationship after Jake’s death had been difficult, leading to endless fights with cutting words. But now, things between Clarke and Abby were better, as time and distance had given them both the opportunity to heal their hearts and old wounds and slowly rebuild their relationship in a healthier fashion. 

Abby enveloped Clarke in a tight hug. “Welcome home, sweetheart!”

“Hi, Mom. Thanks for picking me up. I could have taken a cab though,” Clarke began, not wanting to be a burden to her mother the day before the wedding. 

Abby brushed off Clarke’s concern, shouldering Clarke’s bags and leading her out to the parking lot. “Nonsense. I haven’t seen my daughter in how many months? Of course I’m picking you up.”

“Well, thanks. It’s good to see you, I missed you,” Clarke admitted, reaching out to squeeze Abby’s arm. 

“I missed you too, hon,” her mother smiled. “Lucky for us, it’ll just be the two of us tonight. I was thinking we can order Chinese, open a bottle of wine, and watch some ridiculous movies? Sound okay?”

“Yeah, but where’s Marcus?” Clarke asked curiously. Even though it was the day before the wedding, Clarke had never met Marcus Kane. She only knew what he looked like from the pictures her mother had shared. Clarke had assumed she would meet him today. 

“He’s picking up Octavia, his daughter,” Abby explained, opening the back hatch of her SUV to put Clarke’s bags inside. “She’s on the varsity track team, and competing over in Sanctum. The team was going to travel back tomorrow, so Marcus is picking her up after her events finish this afternoon. Even though they’re mostly moved into our house now, they’ll be staying at their old place for one more night. And his son, Bellamy, isn’t arriving until tomorrow anyway.”

Clarke nodded, processing the information as she buckled her seat belt. “I guess I’ll meet everyone tomorrow then. As if it wasn’t already an exciting day.”

Her mother smiled warmly at her, and Clarke was once again reminded that everything would be okay. Things were changing, and new people were being added to their family, but at the end of the day, her mother was happy, and that’s what mattered. Because, by the end of the weekend, Clarke would be back in Polis, leaving all of her family drama behind. 

\---

Clarke watched the ceiling fan spin in lazy circles, around and around, as the minutes slowly passed by. She was wide awake, and unable to fall asleep. It didn’t help that she was used to staying up late for work, but her mother had wanted an early night, and was tucked into bed by ten o’clock. 

Sighing, Clarke flicked on the bedside lamp. There was no point in tossing and turning for hours, she might as well read or draw, or do anything aside from over thinking about tomorrow’s big day. 

Her phone buzzed. 

A text, from Blake. _Hey, you up?_

And not for the first time tonight, Clarke wished she was back in Polis. It was just the distraction she needed for a little bit of stress relief. 

_Two nights in a row? What kind of person do you think I am?_ She texted back. 

A moment later, his reply came. _Someone who would also benefit from a little mutually exploitative stress relief? … and you’re insanely gorgeous, if that helps. ;)_

Biting her lip to contain her smile, Clarke tapped the side of her phone with a finger, wondering how to reply. 

A second text from Blake came through. _So can I come down to your place, or what?_

_You can try, but sadly I’m out of town._

And before she lost the confidence his compliment had given her, she pulled down her pyjama top and took a selfie. In the frame she’d only captured from her mouth, her teeth biting her lip, down to her bare shoulder, with the top of her cleavage carefully, and teasingly revealed. 

She quickly sent the picture to him, adding _I hope this will help in my absence.. ;)_

Her phone buzzed again. _Fuck, princess_ . _You’re a tease._

And a minute later, Blake sent a photo in reply to show her exactly how much of a tease she was to him. 

_I’ll be back in two days.. And can help take care of your little problem then._

_You didn’t think it was little last night…_ he answered.

_Goodnight, trouble._ She typed, smirking to herself. 

Flopping her head back on her pillow, she found herself wishing she was in the same city as Blake. If Clarke ever needed some stress relief and a distraction from reality, it was right about now. 

\---

Clarke woke the next morning to the sunshine peeking through the curtains of her childhood bedroom, and the muffled sounds of people moving and talking in the house below. 

She didn’t care what day it was - she couldn’t, at least not until she had her morning coffee. Slipping a robe over her shoulders, she headed down the stairs to the noisy kitchen. 

Somehow she made it to the Keurig machine unnoticed, and was about to take her first sip of coffee, when she heard an unfamiliar voice. 

“Hi, you must be Clarke,” a male voice said.

Clarke turned to see her mom’s fiancé, Marcus Kane, in person for the first time. She recognized him from the few pictures her mother had shared over the last few months, but his voice still caught her by surprise. 

“Oof, yes, that’s me. Hi,” she babbled, quickly setting out her hand to shake his, and hoping she didn’t make an absolute fool of herself. Though her messy hair and pyjamas weren’t helping her case. 

Luckily, his returning smile was warm and gracious. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Your mother talks about you all the time.”

Clarke ducked her head in embarrassment, wondering what stories her mother had possibly shared. Not all of them could have painted Clarke in a good light, considering the fights they’d had when her father was sick. 

But Marcus paid no attention to her blush, his kind voice continuing. “My daughter, Octavia, is out for a run right now, but she’s excited to meet you. She’s always wanted a sister. And Bellamy’s on his way too. I bet you’re eager to meet them too, your new siblings.” 

Clarke nodded politely, because while she might be curious about her new step-siblings, she wasn’t all that eager to meet them. Even though the wedding day was already here, Clarke wasn’t ready for things to change. They might be step-siblings through marriage, but that didn’t mean they had to be friends, or even get along. 

Before the silence grew awkward, Abby entered the kitchen. “Oh, wonderful, you two have finally met!” she said with excitement, kissing Marcus on the cheek before embracing Clarke in a tight hug. 

“It must feel strange now, but I just know we’re going to be a happy family. Besides, Clarke, you’ve always wanted a brother or sister. And now you’ll have both!”

The coffee burnt her tongue as Clarke hastily took a sip. Who was this crazy excited woman, and what had they done with the stoic Abby Griffin?

“Mhmm, sure thing, Mom,” Clarke placated, finding a seat at the kitchen table and helping herself to a cinnamon roll. She pointed between the two of them, “Isn’t it bad luck to see each other before the wedding?”

Abby waved away her concern, “Oh, nonsense. It’s just a small wedding anyway, nothing fancy.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at her mom, as Marcus left the kitchen, heading outside to the backyard. Through the glass patio doors, Clarke could see the magnificent set up in the yard. 

It was supposed to be a small backyard wedding. Family and close friends only.

But the lawn and gardens were immaculately trimmed, and there were at least seventy chairs set up in rows. The focal point, an archway set up in front of the enormous maple tree, was strung with sheer white fabric and elegant greenery. Squinting her eyes to get a better look, she saw that someone had taken down the swing in the maple tree. The swing that her father had built for her years ago. 

Swallowing the bubble of emotion with a sugary bite of pastry, Clarke startled when she heard excited shouts from the yard. 

“What time do I have to be ready, again?” she asked. 

“Two, dear. The ceremony starts at three, and we’ll take a few family pictures before that.” Abby answered, but her focus was on the commotion outside. She sputtered an excuse, and left to join Marcus in the yard. 

No, it definitely wasn’t a small backyard wedding anymore. But Clarke had figured that from the start, once she saw the bridesmaid dresses Abby had selected for the girls. 

Abby and Marcus had decided to have their children stand up front as their bridal party, to emphasize the _‘family cohesion’_ , as Abby had phrased it once. Clarke was to stand as Abby’s maid of honour, and her new siblings on the opposite side would stand as Marcus’ best man and woman. 

In an effort to stay out of the hustle and bustle in the house, Clarke quickly retreated up to her room. She planned to take a tediously long time to curl her hair, and painstakingly detail her makeup to kill the time. 

Until she was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

Clarke opened her bedroom door and saw a beautiful young woman, with long dark hair, bright eyes, and a lean athletic body. 

“Hey, it’s Clarke, right? I’m Octavia, it’s so great to finally meet you!” the girl said, stepping forward into Clarke’s room. She dropped an armful of things onto the foot of Clarke’s bed - a dress bag, a makeup kit, and a pair of heeled sandals. 

“Yeah, you too,” Clarke managed to say, pulling her robe closer around her body, and eyeing the girl curiously. “Sorry, what are you doing here? I don’t mean to be rude, but don’t you have your own room down the hall?”

Abby had taken Clarke on a small hour tour the night before, to show where they had turned two of the guest rooms into bedrooms for Marcus’ children. 

Thankfully Octavia waved off Clarke’s comment with a small laugh. “Yeah, sorry! Abby told me to get ready in here with you, as you have the en suite bathroom, instead of me trying to fight my brother for one in the hallway. Shoot, she didn’t tell you, did she?”

Clarke shook her head, “No, she must have been distracted.” She twisted the belt ties on her robe, and took a deep breath. She could do this. “But this will be great, it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other, and maybe you can help with my hair?”

Octavia smiled widely, “Only if you help with mine. I can never figure out how to curl the back of my head.”

“Well, I guess that’s what sisters are for,” Clarke replied, plugging in the curling wand so it could heat up on the bathroom counter. She was surprised by how easy it was to grin back at Octavia. Maybe having a step-sister wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world after all. 

A few minutes later, as Clarke was helping Octavia curl her hair, Octavia caught her eye in the mirror. 

“What’s it like living on your own in Polis? Are you single? Seeing anyone?” 

Clarke rolled her eyes, and said with a chuckle, “You don’t waste any time, hey? But no, I’m single.” 

“Wait, really?” Her almost step-sister's eyes flashed mischievously in the reflection. “But there must be someone you have your eye on?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Clarke tried not to reveal anything. But one small nudge from Octavia’s elbow had her admitting the truth. 

“Well, there might be this one guy in Polis. But he doesn’t see me like that, and it would ruin our friendship or whatever. It’s not worth that risk.” Clarke was careful to omit the _‘with benefits’_ part of her friendship with Blake. Octavia was only seventeen and didn’t need that information quite yet. 

“Hmm, I think you should go for it,” Octavia mused, tapping her chin. “Ooh! Maybe you’ll meet someone here, at the wedding. My brother is a total dork, but somehow his friends are pretty cool.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “But wouldn’t it be weird if I dated one of your brothers' friends? That would be weird for him, right?” 

Octavia grinned, “Nah, they’re cool. I think you’d get along with Murphy actually. As long as you don’t date my brother, we’ll be fine.” 

“Ew, I’ll pass on that, we’re going to be a family and all, so that’s just, _ugh_ ,” Clarke answered, wrinkling her nose at the thought. 

Clarke was almost done curling Octavia’s hair when Octavia added, “It’s kind of funny that you and Bell both live in Polis and have never met. I know it’s a big city and all, but wouldn’t it be crazy if you already knew each other?”

“So crazy,” Clarke echoed. “Luckily I know absolutely no one outside of my office, and I think I’d remember if I met someone with the name Bellamy - you don’t hear that one everyday.” 

“Like I said,” Octavia added, spinning to check out her hair, “My brother is a nerd, and has a dorky name to go with it.” 

Clarke gave a half-hearted laugh, feeling guilty about teasing Bellamy before they’d even met. But maybe this is what having siblings would be like. 

“This is perfect, thanks Clarke!” Octavia praised, giving Clarke a quick hug. 

Octavia soon returned the favour, helping turn Clarke’s hair from messy bedhead to luxurious curls. She’d even twisted in a few braids to create a half up-do style, and Clarke was impressed. 

Octavia quickly changed into her dress and then left the room. Some of her aunts and cousins had already arrived, and she wanted to see them before the ceremony. 

Left alone in her room, Clarke spent far too long perfecting her makeup, all in the interest of wasting time. And when her hair and makeup were done, she curled up on her bed with her phone, scrolling aimlessly through instagram and twitter. And out of curiosity, she even tried looking for Octavia and Bellamy online. She sent a follow request to Octavia, but couldn’t find Bellamy anywhere. Maybe she’d have better luck once Octavia accepted the request and Clarke could lurk her posts and tags. 

As the clock ticked closer to two o’clock, Clarke eyed the dress bag warily. Sighing, she unzipped the garment bag, revealing the blush pink bridesmaid dress. 

It really was a beautiful dress. Though it was a shame she would never be able to wear it again after today. It would carry too many awkward memories. 

Clarke pulled the dress over her head, sliding her arms through the straps, and adjusting the fabric down over her hips. 

Once the zipper closed, Clarke glanced over to the full length mirror on the closet door. The silky dress hugged her curves in all the right places, fitting her like a glove. She fastened her heels on, and added one more coat of mascara for good measure. 

Satisfied with her appearance, Clarke breathed deeply, readying herself to play the role of perfect daughter, someone who was overjoyed with her mother’s newfound happiness. 

But really, she couldn’t wait for this day to be over. 

As she stepped down the stairs toward the foyer, she caught sight of someone familiar stepping through the front door. 

“Wells!” she cheered, skipping down the last few steps, and enveloping her closest friend in a tight hug. 

“Hey, Griff. Good to see you,” he laughed, releasing her from the hug to spin her in a small circle. He let out a low whistle. “Dang, girl. You clean up nice!”

Clarke began to giggle as she twirled, knowing Wells meant nothing more than friendly teasing. 

A shockingly loud sound of fabric ripping made her pause. 

Glancing down, Clarke was horrified to find the hem of her dress caught on a rustic wooden sign her mother had installed, a Pinterest-worthy sign outlining an itinerary and directions for the guests. Her dress was torn, a gaping hole ripped along the bottom hem just below her knees. 

“Oh, fuck,” Clarke swore. “Shit, what do we do?!” With careful fingers, she untangled her dress from the sign, keeping it from ripping any further. 

Wells scratched his head. “You don’t happen to know anyone who can sew, do you? Or where to even find a sewing kit?”

Clarke whirled around to look at him, edging toward panic. “No, I don’t! _Shit!_ My mom is going to kill me. And then bring me back to life to clean up the mess.”

She sat down on the stairs, and dropped her head in her hands. “Wells, what do I do now?” 

Wells opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it again, as if he had no clue what to say or do. 

The sound of heels clacking on the tiled hallway caught their attention. Expecting Abby, Clarke braced for the worst, but was relieved to see her almost step-sister Octavia round the corner. 

“Hey, Clarke, are you ready? Your mom wants to take some pictures- Oh, are you okay?” Octavia’s eyes grew wide as she noticed Clarke’s distress, and then the rip in her dress. 

Clarke grimaced, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Any chance you know anyone here who can help fix this? Maybe one of your aunts?”

Octavia grinned, “Actually yes. Give me two seconds.” 

The brunette slipped past Clarke on the stairs and raced up the steps quickly, despite her high heeled sandals. 

Clarke shared a look of uncertainty with Wells. She had only known Octavia for less than a few hours, and while she didn’t dislike the younger girl, she had to admit that Octavia was already full of surprises.

“Clarke! Octavia!” They heard Abby shout, her voice echoing through the house, coming from the yard. 

“I’ll go distract her. You, hurry up!” Wells said, adjusting his cuff links as he strode through the house on long legs. 

Soon, Octavia returned to the base of the stairs, a small sewing kit in hand. 

“Wait, you sew?” Clarke asked, her curiosity piqued. 

Octavia nodded, as she examined the rip carefully. Popping open her supply case, she began to thread a needle. “My mom taught me, she was a seamstress, before she, uh...”

“Oh,” Clarke acknowledged, fully understanding what it was like to lose a parent. “I’m sorry.” 

The brunette nodded, focusing on the dress as she pushed the needle through the delicate fabric. “It’s a shame my brother’s stuck in traffic, he’s way better at this than I am.” 

“Bellamy sews? Did your mom teach him too?”

“Yeah. Bell and I have different fathers, so before my mom married Marcus, she used to bring Bellamy to work with her. She used to give him scraps to practice on, until he was able to help with some of the smaller projects.” 

Clarke watched Octavia’s skilled hands moving with pin-point accuracy. She couldn’t imagine someone being better at this than Octavia was, as the girl was clearly well-trained. 

“Does my mom know that your brother is running late? You realize she’s going to freak if anything goes wrong today.”

Octavia laughed. “Actually, I think Bell would be more mad at himself. My brother’s responsible to a fault. It’s probably killing him to be late.”

No offence to Octavia, but her brother - Clarke’s new step-brother - sounded completely lame. All she knew about him was that he was twenty-eight, a high school teacher, and now responsible and punctual. And he could sew? 

“There, all fixed!” Octavia snipped the thread, and packed up her sewing kit again. 

Clarke smoothed the seam through her fingers. “Octavia, this is perfect. I don’t know how to thank you-”

“Sneak me a few drinks tonight and we’ll call it even, okay?” Octavia answered mischievously. 

Laughing, Clarke agreed to help the underage girl snag a few drinks, mostly because she knew it would tick off the responsible brother she had yet to meet. “What else are sisters for?”

“I knew I would like you,” Octavia grinned, linking her muscled arm through Clarke’s as they walked down the hall to the patio doors. 

\---

Abby Griffin’s detailed wedding itinerary had specified that they would take pictures before the ceremony. Unfortunately, Marcus’ son, Bellamy, was still stuck in traffic coming into the city. So their new happy blended family pictures were bumped to after the ceremony. 

Octavia commented to Clarke as they watched the photographer, finding it surprising that her always punctual brother was _this_ late. 

But what Clarke found most surprising was that this change of plans did not send her mother into a frantic tizzy. Growing up, if plans changed at the last moment, Abby would freak out. Clarke still didn’t know Marcus well, but if something like this didn’t set her mother off, she might have to admit that her new step-father was a good influence on her mother. 

The next hour passed in a blur as guests began to arrive. Clarke was hugged and kissed by relatives she hadn’t seen in years, and introduced to Kane’s family and friends as well. She was relieved when she and her mother were sequestered in the house before the ceremony began. 

Pacing circles around the living room, Clarke fiddled with the beautiful bouquet in her hands. Abby was perched on the edge of an armchair, looking calm and serene in white lace. 

“You look beautiful today, Clarke,” Abby said softly. 

Smiling shyly, Clarke ducked her head. “Thanks Mom. You look amazing too.” 

“I know this is a big change, huge for our family,” Abby began, her words treading carefully. “But I want you to know that me marrying Marcus doesn’t change the love I have for your father.”

Clarke swallowed, a lump in her throat that grew from her mother addressing the very thoughts that plagued her mind. “I know, Mom. I just want you to be happy, and I can see that Marcus is good at that. But,” she hesitated, picking at the flowers in her hand, “But I miss dad. A lot. So this is really hard, but I’m trying.”

Abby caught Clarke’s hand, saving the poor bouquet from being picked apart. With watery tears in her eyes, Abby said, “Thank you. I’m so proud of you, Clarke. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Clarke whispered, wiping a stray tear from her eyes, and let Abby hug her close. It was the motherly hug she had craved for years as a child. Though the last few years hadn’t been kind to them, knowing that she and her mother were in a healthy place was the small silver lining. 

Soon, they heard the music play through the outdoor speakers. Clarke looped her hand through her mother’s arm, and they walked side by side through the kitchen together. 

Nervous butterflies fluttered in Clarke’s stomach as they stepped outside and every guest turned to stare at them. 

Glancing around at all the smiling faces, Clarke recognized a few and smiled back. Looking forward she caught sight of Marcus waiting up front at the altar, his smile full of nervous excitement. And beside him, were his children, Octavia and finally a glimpse of the elusive -

_HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT._

_BLAKE!!_

_What the hell was Blake doing here!?!_

Clarke faltered for a half step, leaning her weight on her mother’s arm, before quickly righting herself and marching forward. 

_Holy shit._

Blake was here. Standing in between Marcus and Octavia. Blake was the best man, which meant… _Fuck!_

Wait. Not Blake. He’d clearly given her a fake name if he was supposed to be Bellamy. 

Because he was Bellamy. Marcus’ son. Octavia’s brother. 

Taking a deep breath, Clarke kept a pageant smile pasted on her face, making her way down the aisle. Chancing another look up to the front, she felt her stomach flip once more. 

Blake - no, _Bellamy_ was staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights. Clearly he recognized her as well. 

And _shit_. Her favourite fuck buddy was going to be her new step-brother. 

Clarke had expected blending their two families to be complicated, but not _this level_ of complicated. 

Abby kissed her cheek and joined Marcus at the front, giddy as they clasped hands. Clarke found her mark, and held her bouquet as she’d been instructed.

The officiant began to speak, but Clarke did not hear any of the words. Instead, her eyes kept drifting toward the man standing across from her. 

Bellamy. Marcus’ son. Blake. Her new step-brother. 

_What in the fresh hell was this?!_

Her only consolation was that Bellamy looked as shocked as she felt. She only hoped her own expression stayed neutral, not revealing how she truly felt. 

Thankfully, the rest of the ceremony passed quickly. Clarke’s stomach felt like dead weight. Across from her, Bellamy stood stoically, a polite smile on his face at the officiant’s jokes. And Octavia was all smiles, carefree and throwing her head back in laughter at the correct moments. 

Finally the officiant introduced the new couple, Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Kane. Abby and Marcus kissed as the guests applauded and cheered, before heading down the aisle hand in hand. 

According to the plan, Clarke was to be escorted back down the aisle by the best man. But now, she resolved, there was no way that was happening. 

Ignoring Blake’s offered arm, Clarke turned a cold shoulder. She marched to the first row, where Wells was sitting as an honorary family member, and pulled him up out of his seat to walk with her down the aisle. 

“Griff, what was that about?” Wells whispered, keeping his smile wide, though concern flashed through his eyes. 

Clarke wanted to laugh. Or to throw something. Or to shove her bouquet down Blake’s throat. How was she supposed to explain this to Wells? 

“It’s him. It’s fucking _him_ ,” she managed to whisper back. 

Wells raised a curious eyebrow. 

But before Clarke could answer, they had reached the end of the aisle, and she was pulled into the receiving line next to the happy couple. Guests, eager to congratulate the newlyweds, pushed Wells out of Clarke’s grip, and reminded Clarke of her duty to play the perfect doting daughter. 

An endless stream of guests moved past, congratulating Clarke on her mother’s marriage. She reciprocated hugs and kisses on the cheek out of habit. If she was asked who she saw or talked to in the receiving line, Clarke would have absolutely no answer. Her mind was still spinning from her discovery. 

When the last guest finally moved past them, Abby reached out for one more hug, holding her tight for an extra moment. 

“You kids take a quick break, go see your friends, and we’ll meet back here in ten minutes for the rest of our pictures,” Marcus instructed, wrapping an arm around Octavia’s shoulders. 

Bellamy shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded briskly, before walking in a straight line toward the bar. 

And Clarke beelined toward Wells, who was waiting nearby with two champagne glasses. She took a glass, tipping back the drink and draining the glass. 

“That bad?” he asked, wincing. 

“Yeah,” Clarke answered, stealing the other full glass from his hand and knocking it back as well. 

“Sheesh. What happened?” he asked, concerned.

Glancing around at the crowded backyard, she pulled him over to a nearby bench, and whispered furtively. “Marcus’ son. Bellamy. I know him from Polis. Only, he told me his name was Blake.”

Wells nodded along, “And, the problem is…?”

Clarke sighed, dropping her head on Wells’ shoulder. “He’s the guy I’ve been hooking up with for the last eight months.”

Wells was silent for a moment before throwing his head back in laughter. “You’ve been hooking up with- with your new step-brother?!” 

“It was never on purpose! He was just a stranger from Polis, and besides, we matched online _before_ Mom started dating Marcus.” Clarke groaned, still leaning against his shoulder. “What do I do? My mom will kill me if she finds out.” 

“Fuck, Griff. I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see this one coming.” 

“Right?! Shit, I’m going to kill Raven for getting me to sign up on Tinder in the first place.” 

“No, don’t do that. If you kill her I can’t date her.” Wells had only met Raven when she had bombed Clarke’s facetime call on her lunch break. But Wells had taken one look at Clarke’s new friend, and decided he was in love with her, and now constantly needled Clarke about setting them up even though they lived hours apart. 

Clarke looked up long enough to roll her eyes at her friend. 

“Either way, before you kill Raven, you should figure out what you’re going to say to him.” Wells cleared this throat. “And you better think fast, because they’re waving you over for pictures.”

Groaning, Clarke stood up and smoothed out her dress. “Ugh, wish me luck. And get me some more champagne, okay?”

“Promise you’ll introduce me to Raven, and I’ll help you survive today,” Wells bargained, giddiness radiated from his face. 

Rolling her eyes, Clarke flashed her middle finger at her best friend as she turned around. 

Wells’ laughter echoed in her ear as Clarke stepped toward her new blended family. 

And much to her disappointment, Bellamy looked up from where he was talking to Octavia and smirked. “Well, hello. If it isn’t our brand new sister. You must be Clare.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. It shocked her - Blake had always been kind, but Bellamy was an ass. 

“It’s Clarke, you idiot.” Octavia backhanded him in the gut, and it only pleased Clarke the teensiest bit to see him recoil, breathless at having the wind knocked out of him. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Bellamy ignored his sister’s taunt, and held out his hand toward Clarke. “Sorry, Clarke. I’m Bellamy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure, eh?” Clarke replied, raising one eyebrow as she shook his hand, playing with fire. 

His eyes sparked dangerously, accepting her challenge, but they were interrupted by the photographer before Bellamy could reply. 

The best part of the family pictures was that they were told to stay quiet, and not to talk. Meaning Clarke had time to brainstorm what she would say to Blake - _no, Bellamy -_ when they finally had a chance to talk. 

The worst part of family photographs was that the photographer kept arranging their family poses with Bellamy standing next to Clarke, encouraging him to get closer, and to put a hand on her waist or her shoulder. Meaning his touch kept Clarke continually distracted, as her mind kept drifting back to the last time those hands had touched her skin.

It had only been two days since then, since his touch had made her forget her own name - both of them. 

Finally, after the photographer’s trigger happy finger had clicked its final shot, they were free to enjoy the party. Octavia fled quickly, ever the athlete as she jogged across the lawn, eager to find her friends again. 

Eyeing Wells waiting for her near the bench, with two full glasses of champagne, bless his soul, Clarke began to walk away. 

Until a warm hand clasped her elbow, catching her attention. She spun around on her heels to see familiar eyes and sun-kissed freckles. 

“Hey, can we talk?” Bellamy said, releasing his hand from her arm to scratch the back of his head. 

“Umm,” Clarke blinked, glancing over her shoulder to where Wells was waiting. “Honestly? No. This is so fucking weird, and I’m so not drunk enough for this conversation to happen.”

As she fled toward the safety of her best friend, Clarke foolishly looked over her shoulder back at Bellamy. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he looked, well, he looked miserable. 

“Gimme,” Clarke said, shoving her bouquet at Wells in exchange for both glasses. After draining the first glass, she shook her head. “What are the chances of this even happening?! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. ”

Wells’ mouth quirked with a half smile, as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “So then we drink, and then drink some more.”

Clarke nodded in agreement, letting him lead her to the bar. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to let her forget Blake, but it would be fun trying. 

\---

The reception passed by in a blur, though that might be the six glasses of champagne talking. Clarke adjusted the seating charts at the last moment to make sure she and Wells were nowhere near her new step-siblings. 

And somehow, she survived the dinner and awkward speeches, smiling and clapping as expected of the doting daughter. Every time it seemed as if Bellamy was going to cross her path, she managed to maneuver out of his way, or insert herself into a nearby relative’s conversation to avoid him.

As the sun began to set and the dancing began, Clarke excused herself, to go inside the house. She kicked off her heels and her bare feet were silent stepping across the tiles, the only sound was the music and laughter from outside. Climbing the stairs and following the familiar path to her childhood bedroom, Clarke closed her door behind her and flopped onto her bed, burying her face in the pillows. She just needed a few minutes to herself. 

When her bedroom door creaked open, she groaned, regretting not locking the door. “Wells, I thought I told you to leave me alone.” Without lifting her head, she chucked a throw pillow in the general direction of the door. She heard it hit the wall and fall to the floor. 

Someone cleared their throat. “I, uh, I’m not Wells.”

Whipping her head up, Clarke spied Bellamy standing in the open doorway, holding his hands out innocently. He’d lost his jacket and tie somewhere, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

Clarke hated how excited she felt to see him like that, until her brain remembered why it was a terrible idea. “Get out of my room,” she said sternly, throwing another pillow at him. 

Bellamy caught the pink pillow and smirked, “Well, that’s a first. I’m pretty sure you always drag me toward your room.”

Her face flushed at the truth of his comment. Clarke stood up next to the bed and crossed her arms. “Oh, shut up. What do you want.”

“To talk,” he answered, closing the door behind him. 

“You really want to do this now?” she questioned, stepping closer until they were only separated by a few feet. 

He shrugged. “Might as well, unless you want to figure it out at family brunch tomorrow morning. I’m sure our parents would _love_ to know what’s been going on.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t offer any answers. 

“Why’d you tell me your name was Clare?” 

It was Clarke’s turn to shrug. “I didn’t want anyone I met online to know who I really was, and this wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. It was just supposed to be a one night thing. But then it kept happening. And it was easier to keep up the lie than tell you the truth. Besides, my name’s not exactly common, so it would’ve been too easy to link me to my mom or my job. You get that right, _Bellamy_.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, it definitely sucked today, you know. Finding out that Clare, the girl I’ve been sleeping with, and my new step-sister Clarke were the _same fucking person_. And in the middle of the ceremony too.” He sighed again, scrubbing his hand over his face. 

“Well, it’s not my fault you were so late this morning. If you’d have been on time we could’ve figured this out sooner, and hashed everything out before our parents said ‘I do’.”

“Don’t you start, too. O’s already giving me shit about that.” Bellamy leaned back, eyes to the ceiling as he rested his head against the wall. 

After a moment of awkward silence, Clarke shuffled on her feet. “So, uh, why Blake? How’d you get that from Bellamy Kane?”

Bellamy finally looked over to her. “Marcus isn’t my real father, you know. I was eight when he married my mom, and adopted me. But I still use my own last name, Blake.”

“Oh, right. Octavia mentioned that this morning,” Clarke replied, trying to feign nonchalance as the pieces fell into place. If he was anything like her, he valued his privacy. And knowing what she knew now, that Bellamy was a high school teacher, it made sense why he used a fake name online. Clarke sighed, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Fuck, this is so messed up. My mom can’t find out, she’ll kill me.”

A sharp laugh broke out of him. “No shit. She’ll kill me too. The one time I met your mom, all she could talk about is how her daughter always wanted a big brother, so she’d be lucky to have me around. Turns out, that’s all fucked up now.”

He ran his hand through his hair, messing up the curls the way she had done only two nights before. 

Closing her eyes again, Clarke tried to take a deep breath. “Okay, so what do we do? Clearly coming clean is off the table. Do we just pretend it never happened?”

His dark eyes caught hers, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah, I guess that’s for the best.”

Clarke nodded once, agreeing. Her eyes never left his as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I guess,” she echoed, her voice lighter than it had been before. 

“It’s a real shame though,” he said softly, pushing away from the wall, and taking a step closer to her, closing the small distance between them. “We had a great thing going there, for what it’s worth.”

Clarke looked up at him through her lashes. “It was fun while it lasted, yeah.” Her voice cracked, though she’d blame it on the alcohol, and not the way her entire body came alive with him standing so close. “I wasn’t ready for it to be over, not like this, at least.”

Bellamy bit his lip, and stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unblinking. She stood there, trapped by his gaze.

They both moved at the same time, drawn together until their lips collided, with Clarke’s arms snaking around his neck, and his hands anchored at her waist and roving over her back.

His kiss was familiar, yet exhilarating at the same time. His touch was warm on her back through the sheer fabric of her bridesmaid dress. Her entire body was screaming for him, intoxicated, while her brain fruitlessly tried to remind her why this was wrong, oh so wrong. 

She managed to pull away from his bruising kiss, gasping for breath. “ _Shit_. We- we shouldn’t do this,” she whimpered, as his mouth moved to the tender skin under her jaw. Goosebumps rippled down her limbs at the hot, searing kisses he left. 

“One last time?” he whispered dangerously against her skin. “Get it out of our system? To say goodbye to Clare and Blake.”

Clarke knew she should say no. It was illogical. But everything inside of her screamed yes. So she didn’t answer. At least, not out loud. Instead, she used her hands to guide his mouth back to hers and kissed him deeply. 

Reaching behind him, she turned the lock on her bedroom door. With so many people around the house, they had to be careful. Then, with her hands anchored on his shoulders, she began to step backwards, pulling him with her in a well-practiced motion, until her bed bumped the back of her knees. 

Bellamy nudged her backwards, until she was lying down, and he climbed on the bed, on top of her. This was familiar too, his weight over her body, his hips wedged against hers. 

“We have to be quiet,” Clarke managed to say, breathlessly, suddenly remembering the crowds of people outside and the fact that her bedroom windows were open to let in the cool evening breeze. 

She felt him smirk against her skin as he trailed kisses along her collarbone. “That was never _my_ problem, princess.”

Tangling her fingers through his hair, she hummed happily as his lips traced her cleavage. 

He pushed her dress up, his hand hot along her thigh as his fingers teased the seam of her underwear. 

Clarke needed him - his touch, his kiss, his hunger for her. Reaching between their bodies, her fingers struggled to open the buttons of his shirt. She needed to touch him too, to feel his skin under her fingers. Pausing the attentive kisses he was placing on her chest, Bellamy had mercy and helped pull his own shirt off. 

He kissed her once on the lips, before trailing lower again. Her hands roamed the muscled skin of his shoulders, feeling the strength in his body as he hovered over her. 

Bunching the skirt of her dress up over her hips, Bellamy pulled down her underwear, sliding it down her legs. Clarke bit her lip to keep from moaning as he kissed her inside of her thighs. But as he moved closer and closer to where she needed his touch most, she knew biting her lip wouldn’t be enough.

Clarke slapped her hand over her mouth to cover the involuntary sounds she made as Bellamy kissed her core. 

It was unfair how good he was at this. She’d miss this. But if it truly was the last time, she was determined to savour every second. 

Her hand muffled another moan, as her other hand tightened around his dark curls. 

A knock at the bedroom door startled them both, freezing in place. 

Looking down between her legs, Clarke’s eyes met Bellamy’s in silent warning. 

“Hey, Clarke, you in there?” A voice sounded called from the other side of the door. It was Octavia. 

_Fuck_. 

Holding one finger up to Bellamy, signalling him to pause his careful ministrations, Clarke removed her hand from her mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m here. What do you need, Octavia?”

The door handle jiggled, and Clarke thanked whichever gods were above that she had remembered to lock the damn door. “Can I come in?” Octavia asked. 

“Umm, not right now. I- I just need a few minutes to myself,” Clarke managed to answer, despite Bellamy’s tongue teasing her at the very worst moment, daring her to slip up. 

Octavia sighed dramatically. “Yeah, no. I understand. You haven’t seen my brother around, have you? His friends thought they saw Bellamy come inside the house, but I can’t find him anywhere.”

Shooting Bellamy a warning glance, Clarke answered quickly. “Nope. Haven’t seen him. Sorry!”

But Bellamy ignored her pleas, and resumed his skilled technique between her legs. Clarke had to bite her lip once again to keep from yelping with delight as her back arched. 

“Okay, thanks anyway.” Octavia called again. “Oh, and come back outside soon. You still owe me a drink.”

“Sure thing, be right there,” Clarke replied, thanking the stars as she heard Octavia’s footsteps retreating down the hall. 

“That was close,” Bellamy whispered, his breath hot and heavy on the inside of her thigh, sending shivers up her spine. 

“No shit,” she murmured back, dropping her hand over her eyes, in wild disbelief at the weirdness that was her life. 

But all of her rational thoughts were quickly erased as Bellamy returned to the task at hand, and made her forget her own name, her real name this time, and every reason this was a bad idea. 

\---

When Clarke woke up the next morning, she groaned, burying her head under her duvet. Her phone said it was almost time for brunch, but the last thing she wanted to do was face her new step-family. Between her hangover and the fact that she had sex with her new step-brother hours ago - not to mention the last eight months - Clarke would need a whole lot more than Advil and coffee to get through the rest of the day. 

She lay there unmoving for a few more minutes, until Abby called up the stairs for her. Sighing, Clarke threw her hair into a haphazard messy bun, donned her robe, and hoped for the best. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Abby chimed, kissing Clarke’s forehead in greeting. “Have a seat, I’ll bring you a coffee.”

And unfortunately, at the table, there was only one free chair left. Directly across from Bellamy. 

He was wearing glasses she had never seen before, his hand cupping a mug of coffee. And he was laughing at a track meet story Octavia told, but he glanced up at Clarke when she approached the table, an unreadable expression on his face. 

Clarke sat on her chair and picked at a chocolate chip muffin, trying not to let the events from last night run wild in her brain. 

They had left things amicably last night, which was for the best, all things considered. Once Clarke had pulled down her dress and tidied her hair, and Bellamy had buttoned his pants and found his shirt, they made a truce. That was the absolute last time anything physical would happen between them. They would keep each other’s numbers in their phones, but for familial reasons only. They would delete all their old text conversations, and of course, update the contact information to their real names. The Clare and Blake versions of themselves were officially deleted - dead, gone, erased. Shaking on it, both Clarke and Bellamy promised that no one would ever find out about their little tryst. Absolutely no one. 

Which meant talking to Wells was number one on Clarke’s list today, to make sure he kept their secret under wraps. And knowing Wells, he would once again ask Clarke to set him up with Raven in exchange for his silence. But that was a price she was willing to pay. 

“What time does your train leave again, Clarke?” Marcus asked from where he sat at the head of the table. 

“Umm, at one,” she answered quietly, and then took a sip of coffee. 

“Wait, you’re taking the train back to Polis?” Bellamy asked, his gaze landing on her. 

Clarke nodded. “Yeah, I don’t have a car.”

“If you want a ride, Bellamy can drive you. He’s going back to Polis this afternoon anyway.” Marcus offered on his son’s behalf. 

Immediately, Clarke shook her head. “No. No, it’s fine. I don’t mind the train at all.” But really, the thought of being trapped with Bellamy for three hours in a car, after everything between them, felt like absolute torture. 

“Oh, nonsense, Clarke. You hate the train,” Abby interjected. “I know you don’t know Bellamy all that well yet, but you should accept the offer. This will give you two a chance to get to know each other.”

If only Abby and Marcus really knew that wasn’t the problem at all. In fact, one would argue that she and Bellamy knew each other a little _too_ well. 

Taking a deep breath, Clarke finally gave into the intense familial pressure. “Fine, I’ll go with Bellamy.” Stealing a moment of courage, she looked up at him, where he sat right across from her. “Thanks, I guess.”

“My pleasure, princess,” he replied, his voice was low and rumbling, sending all the wrong messages to her brain. 

Stuffing the last of her muffin in her mouth, Clarke excused herself from the table. “I’ve got to go shower, and pack my things.”

\---

It was the longest, most awkward car ride of Clarke’s life. And she had once had to drive Well’s ex-girlfriend home from a beach weekend, and Sasha had cried the entire time - so that was saying something. 

Bellamy had insisted on the playlist, some indie alt-rock crap blasting through the speakers as he sped down the highway. Clarke rested her head on the passenger window and tried to sleep, but closing her eyes made her feel sick to her stomach. 

So for three hours, they sat in silence, as Clarke watched the fields and houses pass by. And for three hours, she tried not to think about how on her train journey into Arkadia a few days ago, she had been eager to see Blake again for another hookup. But now that was completely off the table, and messed up for so many reasons. She didn’t know whether her brain was telling her to punch Bellamy, or to kiss him. All she knew was that she was still in shock at the discovery they’d made - the Blake was Bellamy, and her fuck buddy was now her step-brother. 

A few days ago, all Clarke had wanted to do was return to Polis, leaving the family drama behind her. But what was the point of returning to Polis now, when the family drama was chauffeuring her there?

\---

Finally, Clarke breathed a sigh of relief as their apartment building came into view. For a single millisecond she wondered how Bellamy knew where she lived, and was once again reminded of the awkward history they shared. She couldn’t wait to get out of this damn car. 

Once Bellamy parked in the underground garage, Clarke sprang from her seat, eager to grab her overnight bags from the trunk. 

Bellamy popped open the trunk and sauntered over, his hands in his jeans pockets. “So I guess this is it, eh, Clare?” he teased, with a knowing smirk. 

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, as she threw her duffel bag over her shoulder. “Oh, shut up. Look, I know my mom and Marcus want us to be friends, but I don’t think it’s a great idea. Just, ugh, leave me alone, and I’ll see you at Thanksgiving, I guess. Okay?”

Bellamy scratched the back of his head, but agreed anyway with a curt nod. “Okay.”

“Good. Then goodbye, Blake. Nice knowing you,” she said with an edge of finality that she hoped came across in her voice. Clarke turned on her heel and marched over to the elevator bay. As the elevator doors slid shut, Bellamy disappeared from view, and hopefully from her life - at least for the next few months.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the encouraging comments on the first chapter!! 🥺💜😊 
> 
> enjoy!! 💜

**\--- august ---**

It was almost midnight when Clarke finally stumbled into her apartment, exhausted and starving. Her boss was terrifying when there was a deadline looming. It had been impossible to say no when he asked her to stay late at the office once again. Clarke had spent the last ten hours scanning and analyzing an endless stack of paperwork. Her boss had been forced to finally send Clarke, Raven, and the other employees home once the overnight office cleaning crew arrived, reminding them of how late it had become. 

Turning on the shower, Clarke rolled her shoulders, trying to free herself from the work stress that weighed her down. It didn’t help much, but it would have to do, as her other form of stress relief, which was hooking up with Blake, was no longer a viable option. As the water warmed, she pulled off her clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She would clean them up eventually - but not tonight. She’d have a quick shower, heat up a frozen pizza pocket for dinner, and then collapse into bed. That was the plan.

The water was hot, the steam already fogging up the mirror. With her eyes closed, Clarke stood under the spray, hoping her exhaustion would wash away with the shampoo suds. Reaching for her conditioner, her foot slipped in the tub. 

Flailing her arms desperately for solid purchase, Clarke grasped the shower curtain which was useless to hold her steady. She toppled to the ground in a wet heap. She tried to brace her fall with her hand, but the shower curtain twisted around her body. Her head smacked the tiled floor as sharp pain shot through her body, enveloping her. The sound of the shower rod hitting the tile floor echoed twice before everything faded to quiet and the room went black. 

\---

Blinking her eyes open, Clarke felt woozy. Her head was pounding, the light was too bright and made her squint, and she was soaking wet. The shower was still on, spraying water down on her from above. Confused, Clarke tried to sit up - but screamed in pain when she put pressure on her wrist. She cradled it to her chest. Tears began to well up in her eyes and stream down her cheeks. 

_ What the fuck happened?! _

Somehow she managed to sit upright long enough to use her good hand to grab her phone off the bathroom counter. Lying back down on the cold floor, on top of the soaking wet shower curtain and her pile of clothes, Clarke called the first number on her speed dial. 

It rang once, then twice, the shrill sound echoing in the tiled bathroom.

“Griff?” Wells answered after the third ring, sounding half asleep. 

She whispered. “Wells, I- I- ” she broke off in tears, panic rising in her chest. 

“Clarke, what happened? Are you okay?! Where are you?” He was more awake now, concern evident in his voice. 

She nodded even though he couldn’t see, blinking back tears. “I fell, uh, in the shower. I think my wrist is broken, and I can’t get up. I hit my head too.”

Wells exhaled loudly through the phone. “ _ Shit _ , Clarke. I’m four hours away. Let me call an ambulance for you.”

“No!” The thought of having paramedics finding her naked on the floor of her bathroom was too humiliating for her. Besides, they’d have to break down her door if she wasn’t able to get up to unlock it. “No,” she said again, stubborn and determined. “Can you just stay on the phone with me, until I can sit up. I’ll call them once I’m up and dressed.”

“Fuck. Clarke, what if you have a concussion?” 

“Wells, please. I’ll go to the hospital and get it all checked out, but I just need a minute. Just talk to me. Please.” She put her phone on speaker, placing it on a dry part of the floor next to her. “Okay. I’m sitting up now.”

Using her good hand to brace herself, Clarke pulled herself halfway up. 

But the blood rushed to her head, and she felt dizzy. There were spots in her vision and the bathroom began to spin. And then everything went black. Again. 

\---

“Wake up,” a deep voice said urgently. “Come on, Clarke. You’ve got to wake up for me. You can do it.”

She groaned, feeling something warm on her cheeks. It was a stark contrast from how cold and numb she felt. 

“That’s good, Clarke. Wake up. Open your eyes. Please,” the same voice pleaded. A familiar voice, one that her brain recognized, but she couldn’t place. 

Her eyes were heavy, but she blinked them open anyway, wincing at the bright light. Her head pounded and her bones were aching and numb. She was still soaking wet and freezing cold, and there was a man hovering above her. 

Not just any man. 

“Blake?” she whispered incredulously. This couldn’t be real. Her brain must be playing tricks on her.

“Clarke, thank god you’re awake,” he said gently, brushing her damp hair away from her face. “Let’s get you dry and into some clothes, okay? And then I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

She felt the warm feeling again. His hands. His hands trying to help her sit upright, touching her naked body. Though he must have draped a towel over her, she still felt indecent and exposed. 

“And you can call me Bellamy now, remember?”

Clarke moaned, feeling a bit nauseous and dizzy as she sat forward. “Why are you here?”

Bellamy kept his eyes on hers, keeping his gaze at a respectful level as he carefully lifted her to her feet. She leaned against the counter for support, feeling weak on her feet.

And Bellamy kept his eyes firmly on hers as he reached for a second towel, and gently wrapped it around her body. “Wells called me. I don’t know how he got my number, but he told me you called him and then fainted, that you’d had an accident and needed help right away. And he knew I lived in the same building, because… yeah.”

“Oh, right,” she replied, blushing at his knowing look. 

Clarke cradled her injured wrist to her chest, and let Bellamy guide her down the hall toward her bedroom. She still felt woozy and wobbly on her feet, but she trusted he would catch her if she fell. She shouldn’t. But she did. 

With gentle hands, Bellamy helped her sit on the edge of her bed. 

“Luckily, after everything, I still had a key to your place,” Bellamy continued, as he stepped toward her dresser to pull out sweatpants and a sweater. “But we’ll just tell anyone who asks that I called the landlord to let me in.”

As her cheeks reddened with embarrassment, Clarke mentally cursed Wells for calling Bellamy. Who was currently on his knees in front of her, sliding a pair of underwear up her legs. 

“I guess I should say thanks, but this is super awkward, not going to lie,” she whined. Clarke wanted to hide her face in her hands, but one wrist was broken, and then the other hand was clutching the towel across her chest. 

Bellamy looked up at her through his lashes, a devilish grin stretching across his face. “Well, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, so…” 

Clarke huffed, “I’d hit you if my wrist wasn’t broken.” Though, to be fair, he had a good point.

He barked out a laugh, as he threaded her feet into the loose sweatpants. “If your wrist wasn’t broken, I wouldn’t be here.” 

Bellamy sat up on his heels, “Besides, you need to stay on my good side. I’m your ride to the hospital.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, but the glare was short-lived as he pulled the sweater over her head. 

Carefully, he helped Clarke slide her broken wrist through the long sleeve. She should have insisted on a short sleeved shirt - but that would have required a bra, and she was too cold to care. 

“Don’t forget socks,” she said. When he raised his eyebrows, she wiggled her toes and added, “What? My feet are cold.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes at her, but stood anyway to retrieve a pair. 

Clarke tried not to think about exactly  _ why _ it was so weird that Bellamy felt so at ease in her bedroom. Somehow he seemed to know where she kept all of her clothes. But from her own memories, Bellamy was only well-practiced in taking clothes off of her, and had never stayed around long enough to help her get dressed. He’d only ever thrown on his own clothes and left with a smirk, leaving Clarke in her bed while he’d locked up on his way out the door - which was why she’d given him a key in the first place. 

“Better?” he asked, his trademark smirk vaguely evident on his lips, after he slipped her socks on her feet. 

Clarke nodded, still cradling her injured wrist. “My hair. Can you find a clip to get it off of my neck? It’s soaked.”

Bellamy stood, scratching the back of his head, glancing around the room for a moment. Instead of finding the clip on her dresser, he picked up an elastic band. Using one of the towels that was still mostly dry, Bellamy carefully dried her hair. 

Clarke closed her eyes at the sensation of her hair being played with, and hoped she was imagining the soft shiver that zinged down her spine. The last thing she needed right now was for her body to betray her by enjoying Bellamy’s close presence.

He sat on the bed next to her, not touching her at all except for his hands on her hair as he finger-combed her mostly dry blonde hair with ease. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to look over her shoulder, but was unable to turn her head because of his hold on her hair. 

“Braiding it. So it doesn’t get tangled.” Bellamy answered, twisting the ends repetitively until he was able to fasten it with the elastic. 

It was probably because he had a younger sister, Clarke reasoned. But she had never met a man who knew how to braid hair before. But then again, Bellamy was constantly full of surprises. 

He stood and cleared his throat. “Umm, ready to go?”

She nodded, standing slowly. But she was still wobbly on her feet, and luckily, Bellamy was right there to grab her shoulder and hold her steady. 

Leaning on his shoulder, they walked down the hall to the front door. With his help, Clarke found a pair of shoes, and her purse. Bellamy locked her door with the key he still had on his key chain, and turned his back to her. 

“Hop on,” he said, his voice low and gravelly once more. 

As much as she’d rather not let Bellamy carry her, Clarke really didn’t want to have to walk all the way to the elevator, or through the parking garage to his car. 

“Fine,” she exhaled, carefully looping her tender wrist around his neck, before jumping up onto his back. 

He was strong, and Clarke trusted he wouldn’t drop her, his steps sure and confident as he walked. 

“A thank you might be nice, princess” he huffed, waiting on the elevator. 

Clarke sighed, and then admitted sarcastically, “Thank you, dear, sweet friend. I mean,  _ fuck _ , whatever the hell you are now.”

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. “I’d also accept ‘knight in shining armour’,” he said stepping inside, and Clarke caught his smirk in the reflective metal panel. 

“Again, I’d punch you if my wrist wasn’t broken.”

“Noted. Though, I did grow up with Octavia, so I’m used to being her punching bag. Especially during her kickboxing phase.”

Clarke groaned. “Why do you take the fun out of everything? You’re such a pain.”

“What else did you expect from an older brother?”

“Ew, stop calling yourself that,” Clarke grimaced. “This is already weird, and you’re making it weirder.” 

“You mean it’s not every day that the guy you met on Tinder who recently became your step-brother finds you unconscious and naked in your bathroom and takes you to the hospital in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy, just shut the fuck up already,” Clarke whined, dropping her head against his shoulder. If she closed her eyes, maybe this would all disappear. Maybe this was all a bad dream, and she would wake up soon. But a sharp zing of pain shot up from her injured wrist reminding Clarke that, tragically, this was reality.

Once they were in the car, Bellamy passed his phone over to Clarke. “You’d better call Wells. Let him know you’re still alive.”

Clarke glared at Bellamy, but took his phone with her good hand anyway. Hers was probably still on the bathroom floor. 

Bellamy navigated the streets in the dark night as the phone rang once before connecting. 

“Bellamy, what the fuck? Is she alright?” Wells’ voice shouted through the speaker. 

Clarke winced, holding the phone away from her ear at the sudden volume. “Ugh, Wells. It’s me. I’m fine.”

“Wait, you’re okay?” He sounded surprised. 

Biting her lip, Clarke shrugged even though Wells couldn’t see the gesture through the phone. It was more to reassure herself. “I guess so. I’m awake, and my wrist is definitely broken. We’re on our way to the hospital now.”

“Thank god,” Wells sighed audibly in relief. And then after a pause, added, “Okay, so don’t hate me, Griff.”

“What did you do?” she said, exasperation evident in her voice. 

“I called your mom.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Clarke groaned, throwing her head back against the seat rest. And then shot a glare over at Bellamy who was chuckling in the driver’s seat. 

Wells explained, “Griff, you literally fainted mid-sentence. I had to call someone. And your mom was the only person I knew who had Bellamy’s number, so yeah, I called her. Sue me.”

Staring out at the road ahead, Clarke sighed. “Fine. I get it. I’ll call her now. And, hey, Wells?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Anytime, Griff. Just don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

“Deal. Goodnight,” Clarke said softly, ending the call. She shook her head slightly, and turned to Bellamy, “I can’t believe he called my mother.” 

“Would you rather he have called 911, so the paramedics could find you naked on the bathroom floor?” Bellamy reasoned.

Groaning again, Clarke slumped in her seat. “You’re really not going to let this naked thing go, are you?”

“Never,” he answered, with a smirk. 

“I hate that you’re right, though, about Wells,” she admitted. Picking up Bellamy’s cell phone again, Clarke dialled her mother’s number.

Abby picked up immediately. “Bellamy? Is she okay?”

“Hey, mom, it’s me,” Clarke answered, a sudden guilt appearing for worrying her mother. 

“Clarke, oh my goodness. Sweetheart, are you okay?! What happened?”

“Mom, slow down. I slipped in the shower and fell. I think I broke my wrist. I’ll be okay. Bellamy’s driving me to the hospital right now.” 

“Clarke, thank goodness,” Abby sighed in relief. 

Clarke heard her mom whisper to Marcus in the background. 

“Mom, we’ll call you back when we know more, okay?”

“Alright, love you sweetie. And say thank you to Bellamy for us, okay?” Abby insisted. 

Rolling her eyes, Clarke agreed and hung up the phone. 

In his place in the driver’s seat, Bellamy wore a cheeky grin. “Awh, look. I’m the favourite child now.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, and tossed his phone into the centre console. Luckily the hospital wasn’t too far away or she’d be tempted once more to hit him. 

She expected Bellamy to simply drop her off at the hospital. It was almost one in the morning, and the last thing anyone would want to do is spend the night in an urgent care waiting room. 

Which is exactly why she was flabbergasted when he pulled up to the curb, put the car in park, and got out. Opening the passenger door, Bellamy helped Clarke out of the car, making sure she didn’t need to put any extra pressure on her injured wrist. 

“Go on in. I’m just going to park the car, but I’ll meet you inside.”

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine. You can just go home.”

Bellamy sighed with exasperation, as he walked back around to the driver’s side of his car. “I’m not leaving you alone at the hospital, Clarke. I’ll see you inside, okay?”

Still surprised by his loyalty, or friendship, or whatever the hell it was, Clarke simply nodded, and stepped through the automatic hospital doors. 

The nurse handed her a clipboard with a form to fill out, and Clarke found an empty row of seats. It was only when she tried to pick up the pen with her left hand, and cried out at the pain shooting through her wrist, did she realize that maybe having Bellamy wait with her wouldn’t be a terrible idea. 

A few minutes later, Clarke was focused on completing the form as neatly as possible while using her right hand. It was extremely slow, but she was proud of how legible it was. 

“Need some help?” a familiar voice asked, as Bellamy sat down next to her, already holding his hands out to take the pen and clipboard from her. 

She didn’t want to be in his debt, and really didn’t like accepting help from him, especially considering their history. But feeling the dull ache from her broken wrist, she quickly conceded, and offered him the form. Besides, he’d already helped her get dressed and driven her here, what was one more thing to pay back?

After answering all the questions for Bellamy to scribe, Clarke whispered a quiet thanks. He shrugged off the praise, and helped her stand up again, to hand in the completed forms. 

The nurse told Clarke a doctor would see her shortly, so they settled back into their chairs to wait. The dull chatter from a nearby tv droned on, and Clarke yawned.

Bellamy stretched his arm out along the back of her chair, inviting her to lean on him, to rest her weary head on his shoulder. She was powerless against her exhaustion to refuse the invitation. 

Inhaling deeply, she found comfort from the woodsy smell of him, a smell that still reminded her of Blake. A smell that still made her stomach flip in excitement for all the wrong reasons. 

“So, what do we do now? Are we going to be friends?” she asked quietly, over the drone of the tv news report. 

She felt him pause for a moment, as if she could feel him thinking. 

“I’m not sure. I’d like to be friends, yeah. But it’s still kind of weird, not going to lie,” Bellamy said finally. And then softly added, “At least you’re not pretending I don’t exist anymore.”

Closing her eyes, Clarke inwardly cringed at her past actions. Ever since the wedding a few months ago, she had been on high alert for Bellamy in their shared building. If she saw him in the lobby, she’d loop around the block one more time, just to avoid running into him at the mailboxes or sharing an awkward elevator ride. A few weeks ago, Octavia had been texting her, inviting her back to Arkadia for a weekend, but Clarke had cancelled the plans at the last minute once finding out Bellamy was planning to go along. 

The worst instance was probably over the July holiday weekend, at the party hosted at Wells’ house. Abby had wanted Clarke to take a few extra days off of work, to spend a long weekend in Arkadia with the family. But Clarke hadn’t even bothered asking for the time off work, only taking the train home for the weekend. She had Wells pick her up at the station, and stayed over at the Jaha’s house. Her mother didn’t even know Clarke was in Arkadia until she and Marcus arrived at the party, with Octavia and Bellamy in tow. 

And throughout the whole party, Clarke had stuck to Wells’ side like glue. She may have even threatened to sabotage his non-existent relationship with Raven once more to help her avoid Bellamy that day. And while her avoidance techniques may have been more subtle, like remembering to fetch something from inside, or having to check on decorations, Wells was the opposite. In his eagerness to protect her, Wells may have pushed Bellamy into the pool when he tried to talk to Clarke. But Clarke couldn’t blame her friend, only because she had wanted to push Bellamy in first after the less than appropriate comments her step-brother had made about her bikini top. 

“Yeah, not my finest moments, I’ll admit.” She toyed with the end of her braid with her good hand. “It was out of self preservation though, after everything. It all kind of threw me off balance.” 

Bellamy let out a hollow laugh, “No shit.” And after a small pause, he added, “This hasn’t been all that easy for me either.”

“Am I a terrible person for being happy about that?” Clarke admitted. “I know I shouldn’t be mad at you, because really, we did nothing wrong. But this whole situation is messed up.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what I said at Jaha’s party. I was an ass, and pissed at you for avoiding me. And kind of drunk,” Bellamy apologized. And with a shrug, he added, “Okay, really drunk.”

She nudged her shoulder against his, “I guess I forgive you, if you can forgive me? So, friends?” she offered, holding out her right hand to shake. 

“Friends,” he agreed, clasping her hand gently. 

**\--- september ---**

After that night at the hospital, things were different for Clarke and Bellamy. They were true to their word, and they became friends. 

Bellamy’s overprotective nature and brotherly instincts meant that he was insistent on helping Clarke out while she was incapacitated with her bulky cast. That meant picking up groceries for her, taking out the garbage, and driving her around for errands. 

And the more time they spent together, the less transactional it felt - Clarke didn’t feel like she had incurred an enormous debt to pay back, rather, she built a friendship with him, and began to genuinely enjoy his company instead of keeping score. 

More often than not, Clarke and Bellamy would hang out at her apartment, eating cheap takeout and watching television. And in between bites of food and tv drama, they would talk. He told stories about growing up with Octavia, and how because of their age difference, he had always felt like a third parent. Especially after his mom died, and Marcus checked out for a few years in his grief. From Bellamy’s stories, Clarke decided that she would have loved Aurora if they’d ever had the chance to meet. And Bellamy returned the sentiment about Jake when Clarke shared stories of her father and her childhood adventures. 

It was on one of these nights, when they were sitting side by side with take out containers spread over the coffee table that Clarke realized this is what had been missing before. 

_ Before _ . As in, back when they were Clare and Blake, only together for the physical parts of a relationship. 

One time, when she was drunk, Clarke made the mistake of confiding in Raven. Somehow it slipped out that if she combined the physical nature of her relationship with Blake, and the friendship she’d built with Bellamy, she would have the perfect boyfriend. Raven had thrown her head back in wild laughter, before jokingly asking if she could date Bellamy herself. Despite the three drinks she’d had - or maybe because of them - Clarke felt sick to her stomach as jealousy jolted through her. She couldn’t date Bellamy because they were step-siblings, so that was out of the question. But if Clarke couldn’t have him, she didn’t want anyone else to date him either. 

The next morning when her head was clearer, Clarke began to realize that this wasn’t a healthy mindset. And maybe, just maybe, she might still have lingering feelings for Bellamy. Which was not great at all, seeing as they were family now. 

It would be best not to say or do anything, and to let this silly little crush go away on its own. It would be best for her and Bellamy to stay strictly friends, especially as the hot summer faded into fall, and the family holiday events began to fill their calendars. 

Two weeks before they were scheduled to go home for Thanksgiving, Bellamy let himself into Clarke’s apartment on a Friday night. After breaking her wrist, Clarke had set clear boundaries at work, and was now usually home at a decent hour, rather than continually working overtime. And after that incident, Clarke had purposefully forgotten to ask for her key back from Bellamy. It was reassuring to know that there was someone around to rescue her if anything like that happened again, though she would never admit it out loud. 

“Hey, I picked up a pizza on my way home, instead of Chinese. I hope that’s okay,” Bellamy said, kicking off his shoes and settling comfortably into what was now known as his spot on the couch. 

“Perfect,” Clarke answered from the kitchen, twisting her hair into a messy bun with a scrunchie. She’d had her cast removed days before and was still enjoying the newfound freedom of being able to do her hair with ease. Grabbing two cold bottles of beer from the fridge, and roll of paper towels to use as plates, Clarke joined him on the couch. 

Out of habit, she passed him both beers, and he effortlessly uncapped the bottles. Even though she was newly capable of twisting off the cap of her own beer, the tradition remained from when she’d worn her cast. 

Clarke took her beer back from him, clinking the glass bottle against his in a quiet ‘cheers’ before taking the first sip. 

“How was work?” Bellamy asked, picking up a slice of pizza and taking a bite. 

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Same old, same old.” But as she picked up her own slice of pizza, her eyes lit up, “Actually, you know what did happen? Raven finally accepted Wells’ friend request and they spent the whole day texting!”

“No way! She finally caved, eh?” he teased, knocking his knee against hers. 

Grinning, Clarke nodded. “Yeah, they made plans to meet up for coffee when Wells comes to visit me next weekend.” 

“Wow, I really didn’t see that one coming,” Bellamy admitted, even though he had been rooting for Wells for weeks, following the updates that Clarke brought home from the office. 

“Maybe Raven’s just taking pity on him,” Clarke mused, trying to find an explanation for the new development. 

“Who knows,” Bellamy shrugged, reaching for another slice. “Maybe it’ll work out for them, in the end. Maybe they’re soulmates.”

Glancing over at Bellamy, Clarke saw him smirk slightly at the idea. But that upturned lip caused her stomach to flip in want and longing. It was a feeling that she should not have for the man sitting beside her - her  _ step-brother! _

Fiddling with her dad’s watch that she wore on her wrist, Clarke tried to pay attention to the show they were watching. But every time something funny happened on screen, her first instinct was to turn her head in Bellamy’s direction, watching for his reaction. And then she’d be distracted by his soft smile, and his dark curls, wondering if his hair was still as soft as she remembered from months ago. 

As the night went on, Clarke tried to focus on something else, anything else, and wished for her stupid crush to disappear. It had to. And soon. 

**\--- october ---**

The next weekend, Clarke found herself lounging on the couch with Bellamy once more. Technically she was supposed to be spending the afternoon with Wells, who was visiting from out of town. But Raven had finally agreed to meet him for coffee. And five hours later, the pair were still out, having made plans to go for dinner as well, after taking a long walk through the park. So Clarke had ordered a pizza, invited Bellamy over, and opened a bottle of wine. 

“It’s not fair,” Clarke whined dramatically, slouching on the couch so her feet could rest on the coffee table next to the now empty bottle of wine. “How do those two meet once, and hit it off like that? I’m never going to find love. I’m doomed to die alone.”

Bellamy’s foot nudged hers, “Well, it’s got to be hard to meet someone if you never go out on dates. You’ll never find anyone if you stay on this couch forever.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and elbowed Bellamy in the ribs. “I happen to like this couch a lot, thank you very much. And besides, you’re one to talk. You’re not dating anyone either.”

“I never said I wasn’t,” he admitted softly, scratching the stubble along his jaw. 

That caught Clarke’s attention. “Oh. Really?”

He sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay, it was one date. My roommate, you remember Miller? His boyfriend set me up on a blind date with a friend last week.”

Clarke hummed under her breath. She really didn’t want to hear about Bellamy dating anyone. If she had to be miserably single, then so should he. 

“So are you going to see this blind date again?” she finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

Bellamy’s dark curls bounced slightly as he shook his head side to side. “No, it’s… well, she was nice enough, pretty too.” Still leaning his head against the pillowed back of the couch, Bellamy turned slightly to face her. “But I didn’t feel a connection, you know what I mean?” 

Clarke mirrored his position on the couch, separated by a few inches, and looked into his dark eyes. A familiar surge ran through her veins. A connection, like what she felt for the very man sitting beside her. 

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” she admitted, and swallowed her feelings. 

His throat bobbed and he nodded slightly. “That connection, that spark, it’s important,” Bellamy mused. 

Unable to break her focus on him, Clarke simply nodded in agreement, keeping their eye contact. 

The sudden silence in her apartment was deafening. And it must be her imagination, but the tension weighing between them, the air fraught with possibility and disaster, was suffocating. 

And then, against all of her better judgement, Clarke leaned forward a few inches, close enough to Bellamy that she could feel his breath on her lips, and her nose brushed his. 

Bellamy inhaled sharply, but didn’t back away. 

Clarke closed her eyes, an unholy mix of fear and excitement coursing through her. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispered, his voice cracking over her name. His hand gently cupped her face, his fingers tangling in her loose blonde waves. 

She shivered at his touch, his palm against her skin made her feel warm, and small, and safe. 

Safe enough to feel confident as she gave into her deepest desire, so she closed the miniscule distance between them, joining their lips in a kiss. 

A kiss Bellamy returned softly at first, and then eagerly once Clarke sighed with contentment. 

It was wrong. But it felt oh so right. 

Bellamy pressed another searing kiss on her lips. This was everything she wanted - it was what she longed for when she couldn’t sleep at night, and what she tempted herself with in daydreams. Bellamy was here, and she lost herself in the moment, kissing him back. 

After sharing a few more kisses, she paused, pulling away from him to catch her breath. Bellamy placed a single kiss on her cheek. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked softly, his thumb sweeping across her cheek, caressing her skin. 

Clarke nodded slightly, blinking a few times in rapid succession. 

“Really?” he asked again, checking in. “I need to know, princess. Is this really what you want?”

Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw his eyes on her. Dark and stormy, intensely focused. 

All of her earlier bravado disappeared, and Clarke shrank under his heavy gaze. “We shouldn’t,” she whispered. Deflated, she pulled herself away, establishing a distance between their bodies, needed to separate the electric current that buzzed through her skin at his touch. 

Bellamy looked down and picked at a loose thread on the couch. “I didn’t ask if we should or shouldn’t, Clarke. What do you want?”

“I- I do want this. Us,” she finally admitted, hating how small her voice sounded. 

He looked over to her again, a glimmer of hope in his eyes from her words, but still wary of her tone. 

“If I’m being honest,” Clarke began, pausing to take a breath. She hugged her knees to her chest. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time. Before the wedding and all the family drama, back when we were just hooking up with fake names.”

“Me too,” Bellamy sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He didn’t look at her, but stared at the carpet in front of them. Half a laugh escaped him, “Shit, I’d even thought about asking you, well, Clare, out for real. Kept saying I’d ask after the wedding was over. But then everything blew up.”

It was quiet, the silence heavy around them, weighted down by the new truths they’d shared. 

Breaking that silence, Clarke let go of her knees to sit cross-legged facing him. “I would’ve said yes. Back then. Just so you know.”

Bellamy’s head snapped over to her, his eyes hungry and dark as they met hers. 

If he kept looking at her like that, Clarke might just lose all rational thought. She might just walk headfirst into the giant mistake they were both eager to make. 

Instead, she stood up. Clarke distanced herself from the couch, and crossed her arms, needing her hands to be tucked away so she couldn’t reach for him. “You should probably go.”

Bellamy stood, and walked around the back of the couch to face her, eliminating the distance she’d attempted to create. 

“Is that really what you want?” he asked. 

Clarke shrugged, “No. But this, us, it- it can’t happen. Okay? We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Bellamy asked again, though this time his features looked pained. Clarke hated that she was the cause of his anguish. All she wanted to do was comfort him, and make everything okay. But she couldn’t - she just couldn’t. It would be breaking the rules set in place by their parents’ marriage, and the rules she’d created for herself. 

“Give me one reason, one real reason,” Bellamy said quietly, but his voice was steady. 

Her hands flew to hair, her fingers running through the strands in her frustration. “You know  _ why _ , Bell! Because we’re step-siblings-”

“Technically, we’re not related,” Bellamy countered immediately, his hands on his hips. 

“My mom married your dad-”

“But he’s not even my biological father-”

“He’s Octavia’s dad, though,” Clarke shot back. 

“You’re proving my own point, princess. You’re fine as long as you don’t date O.” Bellamy groaned in frustration, scrubbing his hand over his jaw. “And please don’t,  _ ugh _ . Just, be with me,” he pleaded. 

“They all think you’re my brother now,” Clarke said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Who cares what other people think,” he shot back vehemently. And then Bellamy’s grin turned wicked, “And besides, we both know that isn’t true. Not at all.”

“Bell, we’re supposed to be family!” she exclaimed, her voice growing louder with exasperation. “What if we do start something, and it ends badly… we’re still going to have to see each other at home and during holidays, and-”

“We’re adults, Clarke,” he interrupted. “Sure, it might be awkward, but we’d get over it. And that’s only if things don’t work out. But what if they do?” Bellamy asked sincerely, his words laced with hopeful confidence. 

Clarke wanted to believe him. She shuffled on her feet, and looked down to the floor. “But-”

“Clarke,” Bellamy cut her off again. His sharp tone caught her attention and brought her eyes back up to meet his. 

“Give me a real reason. One real reason and I’ll walk away. Say you don’t like me, or you’re not attracted to me. Or that you don’t see this going anywhere.”

Chewing on her lip, Clarke gently shook her head side to side. Catching his eye, she murmured, “I can’t say that, none of that’s true.”

His face was unreadable for a moment. And then he swore, “Fuck it.” 

Bellamy crossed the room, closing the space between them in three steps. He grabbed her face, cupping her cheeks with his palms and kissed her forcefully. 

Passionately. 

Eagerly, Clarke returned his kiss, all of her defences breached by his touch. There were no arguments left. Only feelings, hidden longing rising to the surface, as they gave into the temptation of their desire. 

Bellamy’s hands dropped to her waist, one hand sliding under her shirt and scorching the skin on her back. Clarke’s arms wrapped around his neck, her hands weaving into his curls. His hair was even softer than she remembered.

Effortlessly, his strong arms gripped her hips, picking her up all while kissing her relentlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she felt like she was floating. 

Surrounded by his touch, his smell, his kisses, her own senses were overpowered. She hadn’t realized Bellamy had walked forward or moved at all until he was gently lowering her down onto her bed. 

Clarke pulled him down with her, craving the feeling of his weight above her, as she kissed him. 

His hands slipped under her shirt again, bunching it upwards, trying to pull it up over her head. 

“You know, the last time you were in my room, you were putting clothes on me, not taking them off,” Clarke teased, letting her teeth graze against his neck. 

Bellamy barked out a laugh. Instead of replying, he pulled her shirt all the way off, and resumed his frenzied kisses. Her chest heaved, barely contained in the lacy bralette she wore underneath. 

“I’ve missed this,” Bellamy whispered, trailing his lips down her neck, to her chest. “I’ve missed you.”

As he kissed the hollow between her breasts, she wove her fingers into his silky hair. “I missed you too,” she admitted, annoyingly aware of all the time she had lain awake in the middle of the night imagining this moment. 

“Are we really doing this?” Clarke implored, looking up into his dark eyes. Her voice was barely a whisper. 

Bellamy held her stare for a moment, letting his weight rest over her body. “I sure hope so, I mean-” He dropped his forehead against her neck, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, and hummed happily. Lifting his head back up, he finished his thought, “You have to know how much I want this, how much I need you, Clarke.” 

And she did know, without a doubt - especially if the way his body was reacting to hers was any indication. 

With his reassurance, Clarke pushed all of her doubts and fears away, casting them out of her mind. Instead of thinking, she felt. She felt his kiss, his skin touching her own, and the electrical current of excitement running through her veins. Giving into the moment, Clarke let herself enjoy what she’d once dreamed of, and let Bellamy give her the pleasure she’d been craving. 

And somehow, sex with Bellamy was better than she remembered. It was different, and new, and oh so much better than before. 

After finding their release, Clarke tucked herself against Bellamy’s side, resting her head on his chest as they caught their breath. His arm came up behind her, holding her close as his hand gripped her hip, his thumb gently caressing her skin. 

This was new. In all the times they’d slept together in the past, as Clare and Blake, there had never been any cuddling, no snuggling, or holding each other close. In the past, Blake had always been fairly quick to leave, having received the high he was chasing, and not wanting to overstay his welcome. 

But Clarke liked this, being able to keep Bellamy close, knowing that he wasn’t going to leave. Snuggling closer against his side, she laid her hand over his stomach and began absentmindedly tracing the skin there. 

Bellamy sighed happily at her touch, and Clarke felt giddy with joy. This is what she had longed for, the combination of Bellamy’s touch, friendship, and romance. He was her favourite person to laugh with, but he could also set her skin ablaze with a single kiss. Bellamy was her person, there was no doubt about that. 

“What’s going on in your head,” Bellamy asked, tucking his chin down to see her better. “I can hear the gears turning.”

Looking up at him, Clarke smiled softly, not sure how to summarize her thoughts. “I don’t know, I’m just happy, being with you.”

“Me too,” Bellamy agreed, placing a delicate kiss on her hairline. 

In the quiet stillness, Clarke simply enjoyed being near Bellamy, and having the freedom to touch him, to kiss him, and to hold him close.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you were that day, at the wedding?” he said, tracing soft circles on her skin. “You literally took my breath away… I mean, before I started hyperventilating because you were, well,  _ you _ .” 

Clarke nuzzled her nose into his side, and laughed softly at his words, as her own memories of that day came to mind. 

“It was like an out of body experience for me, during the ceremony,” Clarke shared. “Physically I was standing there, being the perfect maid of honour, but I was definitely having a full on panic attack on the inside.” 

“Seriously?” Bellamy asked. “You looked like it didn’t even phase you, seeing me. That probably scared me more than anything.”

“Well, it freaked me the fuck out, even if I didn’t show it. Wells can tell you I spent the whole day spiralling. And then, later, in my room, with you... That definitely didn’t help the situation,” Clarke said, referring back to the last time they had slept together, the night of the wedding. 

“No, that was, uh, maybe not our finest moment,” Bellamy chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “And then my sister knocking on the door?”

Clarke fell into a fit of giggles at the memory of how they’d almost been caught in such a compromising situation. 

Using his free hand to cup her chin, Bellamy tilted her face toward his and kissed her. Softly, and slowly, distracting her for a moment before stopping. 

“What about now? You and me? You really want to give this a try,” Bellamy asked, his voice a quiet whisper. But Clarke knew him well enough to know the sensitive vulnerability that was lingering underneath. 

Reaching up, Clarke placed a hand on his neck, and gently traced his jawline with the pad of her thumb. Under her touch, Bellamy closed his eyes, and swallowed. 

“I thought I liked you back then, before, when I only knew the physical side of you,” Clarke began. “But then we started talking, and became friends. I got to know the real you, the real Bellamy. And then my stupid little crush refused to go away, and every day I liked you more.”

Taking a deep breath, Clarke continued, “And as much as this scares me, because it feels like breaking all the rules, and knowing my mom is going to be pissed... I- I don’t care about any of that. All I know is that I want you, and I want us to try. So I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.”

Bellamy blinked at her once, then twice, staying quiet as he processed her words. “Princess, I’m already yours,” he finally answered. “So come hell or high water, let’s give this thing a shot.”

And with a wicked grin, Bellamy gathered her into his arms again, rolling overtop of her. Kissing her soundly, Bellamy showed her how much he truly cared. 

\---

Waking up in Bellamy’s arms the next morning, Clarke couldn’t contain her smile. Despite the fears and anxieties threatening to run through her mind, the feeling of being held close in Bellamy’s arms pushed all those thoughts away. 

Feeling the gentle press of his lips against the back of her neck, Clarke spun around to face him. 

She brushed her lips against his for a real kiss. “This is new,” she murmured, “You still being here when I wake up. I like it.”

Bellamy nudged her nose with his, “My days of sneaking out of your bed are long over, princess. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

“Cute,” she replied, with another kiss to his lips. “But seriously, how are we going to tell our family about this? We have to go home for Thanksgiving this coming weekend, that’s only days away.” 

“We’ll figure it out together, princess,” Bellamy answered, pressing another kiss to her lips. “Now stop worrying, or I’ll have to find a way to distract you.”

“Oh really,” Clarke countered, squealing as Bellamy began to kiss her neck, the stubble on his cheeks tickling her sensitive skin.

A buzzing sound quickly caught their attention, pausing Bellamy’s kisses. He reached down to the floor, and pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Shit, I’m late,” Bellamy groaned, rolling out of bed. “I was supposed to meet Miller for breakfast twenty minutes ago, so I’ve got to run.”

“I thought you were done sneaking out of my bed,” Clarke teased, all while shamelessly admiring his naked body. 

Throwing on his jeans and shirt, Bellamy grinned, “It’s not sneaking out if we have nothing to hide. Besides, I fully intend to come right back here and have my way with you.”

He kneeled back on the bed to give Clarke one more kiss. 

“I’ll text you,” he whispered, placing one more kiss on her forehead before jumping up and opening the door. 

Bellamy had only taken two steps down the hallway before he returned, sticking his head through the doorway. “Make sure you put on pants before you get up, princess. There’s a best friend asleep on your couch,” he warned, raking his hand through his messy hair, before disappearing from sight once more. 

Sighing, Clarke pulled her pillow over her face. She had completely forgotten about Wells, and that he was supposed to stay the night. And  _ shit _ , what if Wells had heard her and Bellamy last night. 

Groaning into the pillow, Clarke tried to figure out what she should tell Wells. With no certain plan coming to mind, she rolled over and closed her eyes, hoping another hour of sleep would help her find the answers she needed. 

\---

“Do I even want to know what happened last night?” Wells asked as a way of greeting when Clarke finally stumbled into the kitchen. 

Rubbing her eyes with her hands, Clarke shook her head slightly. “Probably not.”

Wells took a sip of his coffee, and then shot her a knowing look. “So there’s nothing to tell? Because it sure didn’t sound like it last night.”

Padding over to the coffee machine, Clarke ignored her friend as she made a hot drink, breathing in the smell of caffeine she craved. 

Turning back to Wells, she treaded carefully. “And what exactly did you hear last night?”

He huffed a laugh. “Let’s just say that Raven brought me back here, and we heard you, uh, having fun with someone in your room. So we promptly turned around and went out for another drink.”

Clarke winced and swore under her breath. “Sorry about that. But, umm, how was your date with Raven.”

Wells raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it was great, but we’re not done talking about you. So, Bellamy, hey? You two finally got your shit together?”

“I never said I had Bellamy over,” Clarke argued, clutching her coffee mug in her hands. She was determined to feign innocence as long as she could. 

“You didn’t have to,” Wells retorted, his eyes lighting up with glee. “I saw him sneak out of your room this morning.”

Groaning, Clarke took a seat on the stool next to Wells. “You know you’re annoying, right?” 

“It’s a badge I wear proudly,” Wells commented without skipping a beat. “I thought you and Bellamy decided to just stay friends, considering you guys are step-siblings and all.”

Clarke snorted, “Yeah, thanks for reminding me that my boyfriend is also my step-brother. Just what I needed to hear first thing in the morning.”

“Wait,” Wells interrupted, holding up a hand. “Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I mean, I think so,” Clarke nodded, unable to hold back the smile on her face now. “We didn’t really stop to clarify labels. But yeah, Bellamy and I decided we want to give this thing between us a real shot. So we’re dating, I guess.”

Wells whistled low under his breath. “Your mom is going to flip.”

Bringing the mug back up to her lips, Clarke’s eyes flew wide in agreement. “Yep. She’s going to disown us, or kill us. Or both.” 

Clarke took a sip of coffee, and swallowed her fears along with the caffeine. “So on a lighter note, how was your date with Raven? She’s amazing, right?”

And as Wells smiled brightly, giving her the details of his date, Clarke tucked aside her worry for later. When Bellamy returned, they would figure this out as a team, together.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 💜  
> come say hi on tumblr [tumblr!](https://bookwormforalways.tumblr.com/post/644057726620745728/i-dont-want-to-keep-secrets-just-to-keep-you-a)


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